


A Very Enjolras Christmas

by maplewix (orphan_account)



Series: autie enjy [3]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Autism Spectrum, Autistic Enjolras, Autistic Jehan, Awkward Romance, Bad Therapy, Christmas Fluff, Gen, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Mistletoe, Past Child Abuse, Resolved Romantic Tension!, Unresolved Romantic Tension, internalized ableism, warnings: past ABA
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 14:10:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2853623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/maplewix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sentence, "I think you should consider therapy again," was not how Enjolras had wanted to end his day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Very Enjolras Christmas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [speaklikeasunrise](https://archiveofourown.org/users/speaklikeasunrise/gifts).



> Merry Christmas, berryfriend <3

The sentence, "I think you should consider therapy again," was not how Enjolras had wanted to end his day. 

The problem here, he knew, was that Combeferre meant it in the best way possible. It wasn't his friend's fault that the word "therapy" had such bad connotations for him. It certainly wasn't his friend's fault that Enjolras had to hold back the most biting comments he could think of in response. 

"I don't think that's a good idea," Enjolras said instead. 

Combeferre didn't sigh, but he looked saddened. "There are some therapists who are good people," he said gently. "You need more help than Courfeyrac and I can provide." 

"I know!" he snapped, and bit his tongue. "I know that," he said. "I just don't think I'm capable of trusting doctors ever again." 

Combeferre nodded, still sad, still understanding. "If you ever change your mind, you know we're here to help," he said, clearly knowing when the best time to end a conversation was. 

Enjolras said, "Thanks," because that was what neurotypicals were supposed to say in response, and not throw a tantrum or pick a fight. He went to bed instead. 

 

* * *

  

Everything for the next week was so busy with their non-denominational winter celebration ( _not Christmas, thank you,_ _Grantaire)_  preparations that Enjolras almost managed to put the conversation with Combeferre out of his mind. He put on his best energy and spent it all getting ready for the party. Courfeyrac was in charge of all the decorating, and their apartment was rapidly becoming a capitalistic nightmare of streamers. Red and green balloons bobbed around the ceiling. Enjolras emerged from the kitchen where he'd been helping Combeferre cook mashed potatoes and yams and other root vegetables to find Courfeyrac pinning mistletoe to the ceiling of the hallway to their bedrooms.  _  
_

"You're not likely to catch anyone who's actually going to be embarrassed to have to kiss someone," he pointed out.

Courfeyrac pulled a wounded face. "Who says it's for the entertainment value? I might be trying to seduce someone, honestly, Enjolras. Or maybe I'm trying to get Marius to finally say something to Cosette beyond 'hello'." 

"Why are my friends always plotting," Enjolras grumbled, and retreated to the bedroom for a quick break. 

Everyone arrived that evening in groups. Jehan floated in first, beaming and delighted over something that fae needed to share with them  _right now_. Enjolras ducked a flapping hand and went to let the rest of their friends in. Joly, Bossuet, Musichetta, and Grantaire had come over next, having apparently run into Jehan on the way in. Enjolras put on his best host face and made them leave their shoes by the door. 

Joly smiled at him, socked toes curling under. "We brought the turkey," he said. "And the stuffing, which we cooked separately of course." 

"Of course," Enjolras said, and accepted the platters from Musichetta. "Thank you." 

"Hello, mon ange," Grantaire said, emerging from beneath the overly large coat that he had been floundering with. "How has your life been lately?" 

Enjolras made a split second decision not to complain at this newest nickname. "It's been fine," he said, and took his coat away from him before he could say anything else. "I'll hang this up for you." He made his escape. 

Things with Grantaire had been decidedly uncomfortable since his meltdown/panic attack. He wasn't sure how much of it was only in his head, and he suspected whatever of it was actually going on was entirely his fault. 

"Marius, my love!" Courfeyrac cried, and lunged for the door. Feuilly, coming in behind Marius, rescued the pie they had brought from it's near-death at Courfeyrac's enthusiastic hugs.

Everyone else arrived soon after, Bahorel a little late and Cosette and Eponine hand-in-hand. Gavroche and Azelma trailed in behind their sister. 

Their apartment had rapidly become very crowded and loud. Enjolras briefly retreated to his room to lay out the coats on his bed and catch his breath. He put on a fake-smile and let it slowly grow more real as he watched his friends mingle. 

Dinner was fairly raucous, and the food was as good as a bunch of college students could have produced. Someone kept kicking Enjolras's leg beneath the table (he suspected Gavroche) and Courfeyrac elbowed him three times. Two plates were broken (Combeferre both times) but only one glass (Jehan), which was an improvement on the year before. Enjolras made a quick escape between dinner and dessert and huddled in his room for a moment to get his bearings again. What he really needed was a nap and some time alone to stim without being ashamed, but he wasn't going to be able to get that. 

When he emerged, Grantaire was waiting for him. 

"Hello, ange," he said. 

"Hello," Enjolras returned cautiously. 

"So this awkwardness," Grantaire said. "Is that me or what?" 

"Oh," Enjolras said. "That's my fault I think. I'm sorry." 

"Don't be," Grantaire reassured. "You have every right to be uncomfortable after I figured out personal details about you." 

"Yeah." Enjolras didn't meet his eyes. His gaze slid upward.

Grantaire followed his stare to the ceiling. 

"Mistletoe?" he asked. 

"Courfeyrac," Enjolras said, a little despairingly, and kissed him. 

(They didn't return to the party for quite a few minutes after that.)

 

* * *

 

"Do you know any safe therapists?" Enjolras asked Combeferre a few days later, after a lot of consideration. 

Combeferre hugged him. 

**Author's Note:**

> addendum: courfeyrac cackling and saying "my plan worked"


End file.
